Memory Lane

Boredom is well known by most kids, yet sometimes letting in a few old memories can make a cool friend.
I’m Shelby and I’m twelve, I’m sick of my video games and tired of the computer. I dare not watch another movie for the hundredth time! I need an adventure.
Mom says, “Go out back and play.”
I open my eyes wide holding my breath, blowing it out slowly with muttered words.
“Yea alright,” I say, kicking anything in my way.
“What will I do?” I wonder.
Being outside, I smell hot coals on the grill, as the meat sizzles and snaps as juices drip onto the scorching coals. I can taste the flavors in the air. The scent of mom’s potato salad lingers with extra mustard and red onions. All of those aromas hover in the summer air. My tummy grumbles a little.
This reminds me of July fourth. I see the fireworks red, white, and blue. A sense of pride overwhelms me with honor because my uncle John served in a war to keep America free. I proudly say the pledge of allegiants in my deepest strongest voice.
Something moves underneath my feet. I twitch as it inches on me. It’s the cutest green caterpillar I’ve ever seen. The green is like crisp, juicy sweet peas, fresh from the garden. I begin to think how great it is to work the earth to make it grow so many wonderful things. Like young carrots pulled before their time. Your fingers ache from all the picking and scratching to get this veggie marvel from the ground. Mom always can tell when I’ve sneaked this fresh treat; my fingernails have all the evidence she needs.
My mind resets to a symphony that birds have made for me. The joyful tunes turn my thoughts to school. We had a concert in third grade, all the singing and nerves made Ashley get sick and we had to move from the gym into the cafeteria because of the thick sour smell. I felt real bad for her, all the kids made fun of her, which made me sad.
I feel my eyes water up, my throat gets all tight, my heart sinks and I shake a tad bit. I can’t help but think about my best friend Devon, he died last fall, after fighting Leukemia. We would play all day and always found things to do. It was always fun to pal around with him.
Now I’m just lying here looking for fun on my back in the middle of my yard, cold water begins hitting me stinging my bare skin that the summer sun has turned red. Dad’s sprinklers make water dance over me, but I don’t mind, because every emotion and every feeling deep inside that I’ve ever had, flood into my memory lane.